


like attracts like

by hardkourparcore



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Fire Emblem: Seisen no Keifu | Fire Emblem: Genealogy of the Holy War
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dragon Age Fusion, Love at First Sight, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 21:29:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21215360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hardkourparcore/pseuds/hardkourparcore
Summary: It isn't every day you meet a kindred spirit.  Only so many people are so desperate to leave behind their lives just to see the world, at least, and Lewyn expects he'd never find some one like that here, of all places.





	like attracts like

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mercinarily](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercinarily/gifts).

> self-indulgent gift for my best friend trikey <3
> 
> if you know dragon age and not fire emblem, you can just pretend like they're ocs lol  
if you know fire emblem and not dragon age, you'll probably be fine lol it's mostly just a ship

Lewyn was not a fan of the Orlesian Game.

Thankfully, he had no obligation to play so long as he was just another musician passing through Orlais. He didn't have to wear those masks, and he got free invitations to some fancy parties just on the basis of being a foreigner with a skill in music. He was interesting, he'd imagine, to the numerous nobles who'd never left Orlais, and they especially liked his company whenever he peppered a few Tevene words in his speech.

It wasn't much different from Tevinter, in some ways. Perhaps Orlesians were more up front about the manipulation and abuse they might lever to gain some political power, but it was nice to be an outsider looking in for once.

The ball tonight he'd been invited to as a novelty. Perhaps it was something of an embarrassment to go, but Lewyn would leave town the morning after and any gawking glances spent on him would be swiftly forgotten by next week. He enjoyed the atmosphere of parties at least, and the wine, and he liked dancing well enough.

Oftentimes he'd hide his lute in a shaded alcove when the dancing started in earnest to join it, and tonight was no exception. As he was learning, Orlesian parties had one main dancing event, in which partners were switched throughout the song and over time. It gave enough time to meet some one new, and not enough time to suffer their company should they be especially annoying.

Tonight, his first partner was a pretty woman hiding behind a silver mask. He didn't really understand the mask thing, still, but he never cared enough to ask, so he didn't. Likewise, there were things they couldn't know about him, like he was a Tevinter mage. He teased them by causing a small wind to play in their hair through the first turn. It was fun to see their responses, and since southerners kept their mages locked up in towers, the chances of being found out were slim to none.

This woman didn't seem to notice it at all, which was fine by Lewyn. She seemed polite and amiable, but she wasn't anything special, and as she left his arms and his second partner entered, she left Lewyn's mind just as easily.

His second partner was a man wider than he who lead Lewyn in dance instead. The wind tickling his neck got him to turn his head left and right, though his mask covered his entire face and Lewyn couldn't read his expression at all. He didn't say much to Lewyn at all, but it was nice that Orlesians didn't mind a little same-gender mingling like they might have in Tevinter high society.

Third was a slender woman, with a mask that didn't cover her mouth. Lewyn wished it had, as she spent their time together ranting about something or another the mage cared nothing for, and he nearly stopped mid step to push her away in favor of another partner.

Such a disappointment might have been why he found himself examining his next partner more closely. With a full mask, it was hard to tell if he even noticed Lewyn's trick ruffling his red hair. Lewyn thought he might have seen something twinkling in his eyes – they were bright red and far too pretty to be fair – but he quickly decided he was conjuring something that wasn't really there.

He was polite, though. As they came together, he said gently in such a charming Orlesian lilt, “Please excuse me, I have more experience with leading.” Lewyn would have thought that mask would have muffled his voice, but it hadn't.

It certainly was more interesting a mask than his prior partners. It was gold, not silver, and carved with an intricate design evocative of fire. Perhaps the picture on its forehead was meant to be a sunrise. Every time Lewyn looked, he got drawn back to the other's eyes, which almost glowed behind the shadow cast by his mask.

“You're excused,” Lewyn replied coyly, perhaps a beat too late. He wondered if it brought a smile. That mask was made with a neutral, androgynous expression, and it was hard to see if there was one in those eyes.

But this partner was mostly quiet, too, and during their third turn together, Lewyn had begun to glanc around them in search of which partner may be his fourth. Then, suddenly, there was a flash, and when Lewyn turned to see what it might have been, or what might have made it, his eyes landed right back on his partner's.

Eyes locked, he felt a warmth in their clasped hands, coming from underneath his partner's glove. The other winked.

Was this magic? Lewyn could swear he felt the Fade in those actions, but they weren't large enough for even an experienced mage such as himself to properly smell.

It had to be magic. Yet it still kept Lewyn's attention focused on him for the remainder of the dance, wondering if he'd reveal a secret or two to him.

He didn't. They parted shortly after, him offering Lewyn a courteous bow before finding a new partner.

Lewyn got some one else as well, but they couldn't interest him anymore after a dance like that. He kept an eye open for where that redhead drifted throughout the dance. When the opportunity presented itself, he made sure his next partner would be that same man.

He didn't seem disappointed to see Lewyn again, at least, though Lewyn couldn't tell with that impassive mask hiding his expression. Lewyn offered him a cordial smile, at least, as they came together yet again.

“Do you mind if I lead this time?” his partner asked.

“Not at all,” Lewyn replied.

He must have been only four inches taller than the redhead. That wouldn't be a problem unless he attempted to spin Lewyn, but as Lewyn hadn't spun him, it probably wouldn't happen. In any case, he would be lead for now.

“I'm afraid I missed your name,” Lewyn said after a pause. It wasn't entirely wrong – he'd tuned out the announcements of every guest who arrived, and the ones he didn't were ones he was playing in the courtyard during.

“Azelle Velthomer,” his partner replied. That was a delightfully Orlesian name spoken with a delightfully Orlesian accent, alright. “I think you arrived first. Your name?”

“Lewyn. I'm naught but a humble bard.”

Azelle inhaled sharp enough that Lewyn could hear it behind that mask. “Oh, pardon me, messere. I had no idea. ...I do hope you do not have an... untoward interest in me.”

There was some context to Azelle's words that Lewyn wasn't understanding, but he wouldn't embarrass himself in the Game twice. He'd act like he knew exactly what Azelle meant, so long as he was interested in Azelle.

And he was interested, so there was Azelle's answer. “Not untoward, no. But there is an interest.”

Azelle might have admitted his previous trick had been magic with those words, and yet it didn't fully satiate Lewyn's curiosity towards him. Why wasn't he in a circle? And could he teach Lewyn that trick?

He did his best to keep a pleasant smile throughout the dance. He wondered if Azelle was returning it behind his mask.

“This song is almost over,” Azelle said, as though he was able to read Lewyn's thoughts. “I think I will be watching the moon on the west balcony afterwards. Dancing can be quite tiring.”

An invitation to join him, was it? Delivered smoothly despite whatever stumble they'd had just prior. Lewyn would be accepting.

“I hope you like music,” Lewyn responded, trying to be just a cool and coy as the man before him.

“I do.” The redhead's voice had to be touched at least slightly by a smile. Lewyn could hear it.

Azelle moved slightly, enough to signify to Lewyn that he was trying something, but Lewyn was unfamiliar with what it was. He let Azelle lead, though, like he said before.

He was being dipped, in time with the end of the song. Though he could keep an impassive smile through it, he could feel his face heating up. He'd never been dipped before. It was nice. When he was back to full height, he felt a little lighter on his feet than he had been before.

Azelle winked at him again.

His hand remained on Lewyn's own, though they separated slowly. “I hope you enjoy your evening here in Orlais, Messere Lewyn. Parties like these don't happen every night.”

There were stories in Tevinter that people liked to tell of silly Orlesians playing their little game of politics. In one, a woman is driven completely mad by its complex rules and intricacies – a tragic heroine, life ruined by a foolish system of arbitrary gambits that Tevinters liked to poke fun of.

Lewyn now understood personally how it might drive some one crazy. Azelle had to be a master player. Surely it was no secret he wasn't from Orlais, but just the way his accent touched Lewyn's name was enough to make him want to immediately follow the redhead off to the balcony, to talk about whatever he might have suggested he had in mind.

He decided it would be better to fetch his lute, though, as he'd subtly promised Azelle a song of sorts in private, and set off for the courtyard where he'd hidden it behind a flower box.

“Messere Lewyn?” another voice called out for him. Lewyn turned, letting that speak as a response. “I had been looking for you.”

Lewyn quirked an eyebrow. “Yes, that's me.”

The man before him now was dressed in standard formal wear for Orlesians, as far as Lewyn could tell. He had a full face mask, though not as interesting to him as Azelle's, and some sort of head piece Lewyn could only consider as a funny hat.

“I have this for you,” he said, as he reached into his jacket and produced a letter. He offered it to Lewyn, who accepted it wordlessly.

The envelope was unmarked, and where it was sealed with wax on the other side it bore no insignia from a metal stamp. Lewyn tucked it away in his own jacket, completely unaware of what it could be.

“Thanks,” he said. The man bowed and walked away.

At the very least, that letter might be a conversation topic between him and Azelle on the balcony, assuming he ran out of ideas and Azelle did as well. Neither seemed very likely, to him, but it was better than nothing. He could open it on his own otherwise after the party, and perhaps see what that was all about.

His lute was found just where he left it, propped up in a shady underpass under a hallway on the second floor. He tucked it into his arm and returned to the rest of the palace, looking for a balcony that might have been appropriately west enough to meet Azelle upon.

After a brief search, he found it. Two large doors, consisting mostly of window, separated it from the rest of the party, and through those he could see a shock of red hair. Had to be Azelle. He seemed to be leaning on the wall of the balcony, watching the moon, just as he'd said.

The only obstacle was in the form of some one else, leaning casually against the wall beside the doors to the balcony. Upon Lewyn's approach, he stepped forward, putting himself directly in between Lewyn and the balcony.

"Messere,” the man greeted. Even without being able to see even a sliver of his face, Lewyn could tell that mask could be concealing a condescending smirk. This would be the obligatory Orlesian Game-playing stereotype, Lewyn assumed.

“You're a bit in my way,” Lewyn responded. “I was going to the balcony.”

“A moment.”

He wasn't going to take no for an answer, was he?

Lewyn gave a short sigh. The man before him had long red hair, sweeping down across his shoulders in waves. His mask was gold – somewhat similar to Azelle's, actually. Fire motifs were carved into it, though Lewyn couldn't see as well without getting as close to this man as he had Azelle, and he had no desire to. At this distance, the mask shaded even his eyes, so there was really nothing he could read about this man, aside from however he held his body, which Lewyn could assume would be as controlled and precise as the Game would require.

“I'll be taking that envelope,” he said.

“What is it worth to you?”

A small chuckle came from behind that impassive gold mask. Like Azelle, it seemed this man could project easier than some others who chose those designs. Lewyn heard it clearly.

“Is it worth anything to you?” he asked. The question was hypothetical. He continued without giving Lewyn a chance to respond. “Is holding onto it worth missing your little balcony meeting?”

“Are you saying you won't let me pass without giving it to you?” Lewyn did his best to make the question sound detached, but honestly, he was getting a little annoyed.

“Here I thought you wanted to spend time with my younger brother.”

Ah. That was the Game. The man before him held more cards than him, and only played them when necessary to leverage the biggest embarrassment. Shame was a weapon in these halls. Lewyn liked the way Azelle wielded it better.

He might have known this would be Azelle's older brother if he'd heard their introductions, or if he was more familiar with the Game and the courts it was played in. And every one would know he wasn't Orlesian, if not from his accent, then from the fact that he wasn't wearing one of those masks.

“Messere Velthomer,” Lewyn began, though the change in tone from combative to amiable probably gave him away more than the fake smile he plastered to his face. “If I give you this envelope, do I have your blessings?”

Another stiff laugh from behind that gold mask. “I'll at least allow you to make an attempt.”

“Without a duel to the death?”

“For now, Lewyn.”

He didn't like the way his name was said, but he couldn't counter it with anything. He didn't even know this man's name.

He produced the envelope from his jacket, and held it out for Azelle's brother to take. He did so sharply and tucked it into the front of his coat.

He passed to Lewyn's left. “If you hurt my brother at all, I'll see to it that you regret it.”

Something about how he said it was chilling, but Lewyn couldn't place why. It wasn't as if he had any plans to harm Azelle, anyway. Spending the night chatting on a balcony was all in good fun, and he'd expect they'd forget each other come morning.

Azelle was now facing the doors as he stepped through them, still leaning on the wall behind him.

“I'm sorry about Arvis,” he said. “He outwits most bards. It's part of the reason we're allowed to be here at all.”

“Outwits them?”

“You aren't really a bard, are you?” Azelle asked. There was a laugh touching his words.

Lewyn raised his lute in his arms some before joining Azelle in leaning over the small wall. “I am.”

“No, Lewyn... I think outside of Orlais they are called spies? They play music, too, but they do far more than that. I thought when you said you were a bard you meant to kill me.”

Lewyn's eyebrows raised. He hadn't intended that in the slightest. Did Azelle really think he'd try to kill him? He held a remarkable composure to continue dancing with him, if that were true. That must be what it meant to play the Game.

“Would some one try to do that at a party?” he asked.

“Well... No one likes mages here anyway. It would only be worse if we were apostates.”

So it had been magic. Lewyn looks for another question. He has plenty – what are southern circles really like then? How was Azelle allowed at a party? What was the deal with his brother? He could assume since Azelle said “we” that his brother was a mage as well.

“Is it okay if I stop playing? While we are alone, I mean,” Azelle began. He had his arms folded demurely in front of him, not very much like the suave young man that used magic to warm Lewyn's hand during a dance.

“The Game? Of course. It makes my head hurt, too.”

Azelle gave a small laugh. “Yes, I don't like it either, but you must be good at it. And people like us must be doubly so.”

Lewyn set his lute down and crossed his arms over the balcony wall. Azelle turned to face the sky as well, shifting close enough to Lewyn that their arms were touching. There was a brief moment of silence then. Lewyn decided to let Azelle speak first, and he didn't have to wait long enough for that.

“Where is it you're from?”

He turned to look Lewyn in the eye. While he was still wearing that expressionless mask, Lewyn could see his red eyes twinkling behind it. Interested in traveling, was he?

“Tevinter.” Azelle gasped. Lewyn liked it, so he kept going. “The Tevinter Imperium... I hope this doesn't make _me_ an apostate, does it?”

“Ah... I wouldn't know. Are you really a magister?”

Lewyn gave a little huff. “No. Magister is a government position.” Azelle didn't need to know he was in line to become one.

“Sorry,” Azelle replied. He sounded genuine about it, at least. “We aren't told much about the Imperium, so I don't know that much... But you are a mage too?”

“That's right. And as you must expect, a pretty damn good one, as well.”

“Oh, I've seen. That breeze felt nice in such a stuffy room.” Azelle was teasing, or joking. Lewyn could hear it, but he still couldn't see his face. By now, he was wanting to.

The desire only deepened when Azelle looked up at him. Lewyn could see those burning, bright eyes, but nothing else. He could see a smile in them.

“I've always wanted to travel,” Azelle continued. “But because of the circle, I'll be stuck here forever... For the most part.”

“You can't leave?”

“I can come to this party because my brother and I play the Game. We can travel, if we need to, but only to places we need to go, and we must have templars nearby just in case...”

Lewyn couldn't imagine. He hadn't really seen any templars at this party, but perhaps they were dressed the same as everyone else at a party. It just seemed so... incredibly sad. Lewyn left Tevinter for a lack of freedom, and yet there were others with even less than him. “Why not run away?”

“I'd be an apostate. Many get killed on sight, you know.”

Suddenly Lewyn was glad he wasn't flaunting his magic more often. He knew in theory the south was barbaric when it came to magic and mages, but not quite to that extent had he ever imagined it. “That must make it unappealing.”

Azelle hummed, sounding more distressed than anything else.

“It doesn't?”

“I suppose I want it that badly.”

Lewyn chuckled. “I can understand. I'll be leaving for new places in the morning. Perhaps I'll head for Ferelden next.”

Azelle turned away from Lewyn, looking up at the moon. “I want to see their big hounds. I heard it's very cold all of the year, and I read about a lake you can see spirits dance in.”

“You already know more than I do,” Lewyn said.

“Yet you are the one who gets to see it.”

Lewyn imagined under the mask Azelle might carry a forlorn expression, smiling bitterly against his own fate. It was only his imagination, of course, but that was enough to put a small frown on his own face.

Slowly, and perhaps hesitantly, Lewyn moved and wrapped one arm around Azelle's shoulder.

Azelle looked up, then quickly over his shoulder and back at the party.

“Would you want to be seen like this?” he asked, voice dangerously quiet.

“Why?” Lewyn countered. Azelle's shyness replaced his pout with a smirk. “Do you think some one will be jealous of me?”

“O-of you?”

By the Maker, if only Lewyn could see the face he was making. “Of course of me. The clumsy foreigner has unjustly earned the attention of a master of composure. Perhaps undeservedly so, but I'm not about to waste this opportunity.”

Azelle made a sound that was clearly borne from amusement. “I'm not so sure about master of composure. The masks help more than you may know.” Still, he moved closer to Lewyn, returning his gaze in front of him. Lewyn felt Azelle's arm wrap around his waist, as well.

“You've earned the attention of a second son, a second-rate mage... Most people would rather catch my brother alone like this.”

“I'm not most people.”

He certainly didn't mind standing side by side like that for awhile. He'd thought it was some double entendre when Azelle said he'd be watching the moon, but he really did keep his gaze fixed on the sky and all the twinkling stars smiling down on them. At some point, he'd even gently rested his head properly on Lewyn's shoulder, though he thought better of it a moment after and pulled away. He didn't remove himself from Lewyn's embrace, though.

This had certainly turned out a better night than Lewyn had anticipated.

In the distance, a bell began chiming the hour. Lewyn hadn't bothered to count, but Azelle must have already knew what it would be, as he began pulling away.

“I didn't get to hear a song,” he said. “Would it be impossible to hear one some other night?”

Was he asking if they'd ever see each other again? Lewyn should have said _no_, but...

A kindred soul didn't come around every night.

“I'd entertain the idea,” he replied, trying to temper his words in the same way Azelle seemed to do so effortlessly. He returned his arm to his side just as Azelle took a few steps backwards, intending to rejoin the party. He was facing Lewyn still, away from the doors, and standing in between Lewyn and them.

“Your hand?”

His hand? Lewyn offered it. Azelle gently took it in his in the same motion his other hand rose to his face. He dislodged his mask, raised Lewyn's hand, and placed a chaste kiss on Lewyn's knuckles.

His lips felt so soft. Sparks may have been flying, or it may have been just another magic trick. Whatever it was, the cynicism imbued in Lewyn by Tevinter courts frowning on such scandal evaporated for one sweet, romantic moment. After that kiss, Azelle continued holding Lewyn's hand, though now closer to his chest, and his hand remained at his mask. He held it above his face, so that it no longer covered his mouth, but still covered everything above it.

Azelle continued, and Lewyn watched closely as his lips shaped the words. “If you mean that, Lewyn, would you please stay just two days longer in whichever inn you currently reside?”

The warmth returned to their clasped hands, though accompanied by a telling squeeze from Azelle.

“You know how to make an argument,” he replied. His tone suggested resignation, like he was loathe to put his travel plans on hold, but in reality, his heart was pounding in his chest. “I guess I can give you two days. If I don't see you again, though, I am heading east.”

“I can only ask so much of you. Thank you.”

Azelle smiled. He replaced his mask on his face, much to Lewyn's disappointment. “I am trusting you... So much.” His free hand joined its twin in holding Lewyn's to his chest. There was something beautifully intimate about it, even if Lewyn was standing at arm's length.

With small gestures like that, he wasn't entirely upset that he hadn't gotten a kiss in earnest.

Azelle gave Lewyn's hand another squeeze before releasing it. “I will be going back to the circle... I hope you have a good rest of your night.”

He turned and left the balcony, and Lewyn was alone. Without Azelle around, he found himself wondering if such promises were really such a good idea.

In reality, he could leave in the morning like he'd originally planned, and disappoint Azelle and continue the rest of his journey... living with crushing the dreams of a poor circle mage. Actually, Lewyn didn't think he could do that. Some part of him wanted to, but the rest of him was disgusted that he'd considered it at all.

At least this wasn't the same as going home, accepting position as a Magister and... Living his life in the same boring, mundane fashion, as any Imperium altus mage.

He resolved to consider it as he trudged back to the inn, two glasses of wine deeper than he had been before even meeting Azelle, and promptly passed out on the bed. He reminded himself, the next morning, to think about just leaving over breakfast. He remembered to tell himself to think about just leaving, but he didn't actually do it.

He flit about the city for the next too days, and found all the most romantic places to practice his lute. His mind would drift back to Azelle, but not about disappointing him. He wondered how much a circle mage was allowed to see. Was this city included? Would he see the view Lewyn had, here, of the river? And would he like to see it?

He couldn't help but think that he was a victim of the Game here. That Azelle was a masterful player. That he didn't entirely mind to see where it went.

He started writing a song to the sun and warm hands. Work was slow on it, because his heart wasn't entirely in it. It would be pointless to play if there wasn't a specific redhead around to hear it, almost, and he felt it likely at this point that their paths had crossed once and were destined to unfurl in different directions.

And on the morning Lewyn decided he'd leave, he negotiated pay with the innkeeper, packed up the one bag he carried, and started heading out of town.

It was after he'd gotten through the main gates leading out of the city that he heard a semi-familiar voice calling his name.

“Messere Lewyn?”

Lewyn turned, eyes wide. “Azelle?”

Sure enough, the sunny mage was there, carrying a rucksack of his own and a staff strapped to his back. The gold mask glimmered in the sun more beautifully than Lewyn had thought to imagine. His outfit was different, more subdued than the fanciness of a party required, but still intricate enough to reek of Orlesian sensibilities. It was mostly black with gold trim, though the trim shimmered in the sun just like the mask did.

“You remembered! Thank you for waiting!” Between the sun shining off the mask and the tone of his voice, Lewyn found it easy to imagine an equally bright smile on his face. He knew the shape of his lips, at least...

“Yeah... Of course.” Lewyn found himself a bit dumb-struck. He wasn't sure what Azelle was doing. There wasn't a templar in sight... Were their leashes so long?

Azelle closed the distance between them, gesturing slightly to indicate Lewyn he was fine to continue walking as they spoke. “I was lucky enough to obtain permission to study with you. You don't mind, do you?”

Lewyn quirked an eyebrow, a silent question. He was probably playing the Game, so Lewyn had to read between the lines. “Of course not, Azelle.”

He was close enough that he could see Azelle's eyes again. They were even brighter in the earnest daytime.

“We have much to talk about,” Azelle proclaimed. He returned his gaze to the road. “But I think it will be better to speak of later.”

Too many people around, for his taste?

“As you like.”

Lewyn already knew the Orlesian roads were not as populated as he expected when he first began traveling on them. Though travelers were few and far between, most of them kept their masks on, or hid themselves away in covered carriages too fortified by expensive curtains to really see inside. These could even grant those outside a sense of privacy – if Lewyn was being watched, it was hard to tell – and the transient state of things granted an anonymity.

Any conversation they shared in that first hour of walking was strained. Azelle did not say much without looking over his shoulder to confirm they weren't being watched. Lewyn couldn't exactly blame him, if the stories of southern circles held any truth. Maybe he was just too accustomed to being watched.

It was only when they had completely left the city and its surrounding villages that Azelle asked Lewyn to pause. They stopped, and Azelle turned away from him to rustle around in the bag he'd packed.

Lewyn waited, impatient, but said nothing. He could see Azelle returning something to his bag, but his shoulders were in the way of any real detail.

The mage stood, replaced his bag, and turned back to Lewyn, mask-less.

He may never admit the wait was worth it, but Azelle's handsomeness wasn't in question in the slightest. The self-conscious, semi-smile only added to his charm. A thought to count the freckles dotting his cheeks sometime later popped up in the back of Lewyn's mind.

“This makes me an apostate now,” Azelle said gently. “So I would like to see as many things as possible before they bring me back to the circle.”

“They can do that?”

“I think one day we should talk about how it's different in Tevinter and here. But I think right now I want to pretend like I'm not even a mage at all.”

There was clearly something about it Lewyn wasn't getting, but at least he knew he could trust Azelle to wait a couple days for something.

...It was odd. That trust. Romances like these only happened in fairy-tales, and yet Azelle was smiling at his side, run away from some kind of big obligation in order to... What, enjoy the country-side? He probably should be questioning things a little more than he was, but at the same time...

Azelle had such an honest face. He looked bittersweet, now, which Lewyn could sympathize with. He didn't think it would be hard at all to learn more from just watching.

Lewyn felt the need to say something, so he did. “I haven't headed east yet, so I'll be seeing everything for the first time, too. Same as you.”

That turned Azelle's bittersweet-look into a wide smile, lighting up his eyes as he turned to grin at Lewyn. “Then it will be twice as fun!” he exclaimed.

Lewyn agreed silently. “So...”

Without prompting, Azelle grabbed Lewyn's hand, gently holding it in his. In response, Lewyn took a sharp breath of air in. Kind of casual for what he'd been lead to expect...

Maker, what were they doing?

“Stop me if I am too forward,” Azelle murmured. “There's so many things that are romantic that you can just use to play the Game, so I'm a little used to them already.”

“Is that so?” That certainly made it easier to say what he'd been already thinking about. “So don't you owe me a kiss from the other night?”

Azelle's face turned red. “Ah... Is that how you want this to be like..?”

What kind of question was that?

Lewyn's non-answer created a pause, but Azelle began shortly after he realized it. “I was thinking you may decide whatever the other night was... It was just some silly one-night event. And if not, I had thought to offer you that kiss under the moon, once night fell.”

There went the pounding of his heart... “I suppose I can wait for that. Unless you might be so kind as to give me both.”

Azelle stopped in his tracks, and so did Lewyn. By now the city was far enough in the distance that they were mostly surrounded by rolling hills and scattered trees: not a soul in sight but themselves. The clear sky hung brightly overhead, lazy clouds rolling across its breadth.

Azelle took Lewyn's free hand in his. He wasn't looking up at him, but rather at his chest.

“I have never been kissed in earnest...”

This could have easily been some game to get more out of Lewyn, but it wouldn't have fit with everything Azelle was doing. ...It sounded more like he was using Lewyn to escape, but escape seemed more dangerous to Azelle than anything else. Was it manipulative to take a kiss away in exchange from him?

Wait, why would he care?

Still, Lewyn was slow and gentle in removing one hand from Azelle's grasp, and lifting his chin to better face him. Slow enough that if Azelle wanted to, he could put a stop to it.

Lewyn leaned down to kiss him, and Azelle stood on his tip-toes to meet him the rest of the way. Normally, Lewyn might not be so gentle, but it felt like it was fitting.

When they separated, Azelle's eyes fluttered open and a smile slowly spread on his face. Lewyn thought it wasn't fair.

“Listen...” Lewyn began.

He wanted to say he wasn't sure how this would work, how long it would last. He wanted to warn Azelle that he'd kissed dozens of people before him, and Azelle was unlikely to be the last. He wanted to level that it might be mean, but Azelle deserved to know Lewyn might get bored in a couple of weeks and decide none of this was for him at all.

“What is it?”

But he was having such a hard time being as pessimistic to that face.

“...We should keep moving, so we don't end up sleeping out in the open tonight. You'd probably catch a cold or something...” His sentence trailed off into a mumble. Azelle wordlessly agreed, and they returned to their long walk.

“It's so beautiful,” Azelle said after awhile. “To be out here, in the scenery, and with nothing to do.”

Lewyn was still uncertain about this whole situation, but he couldn't deny a kindred spirit didn't come along like this every day. Maybe once every three days, if he were lucky.


End file.
